Twelve Ways to Stay Awake (Kyman)
by RavenSkylight
Summary: Kyle Broflovski is fed up with his daily job, and really just wants to be himself and do amazing things, but can a worst enemy bring up the best solution?
1. Change

_**throwing s'more Kyman your way! ~.~**_

**_Chapter 1: Really?_**

I groaned as my mother begged me. She groaned and pulled me down almost, looking me in the eye. "Bubbeleh, You really need to go! It will be a great experience! Who knows? Maybe you'll see someone in a different light and end up with them!"

I grumbled. My parents knew I was gay, I came out in high school, but my mom now comments on every boy she sees. She even texts me pictures of them; disgusting, I know. She looks at me a look of plead in her eyes. "C'mon, Stan's flying in for it!"

I just gave her a questioning look. Stan barely crossed my mind anymore, as he'd left me and this stupid town behind with Wendy on a mission trip to Africa five years ago. I really don't have any desire to see him, but I finally say yes because I'm tired of her asking. Mom smiles and claps.

I drown out her silly little remarks about how much fun a high school reunion is, but it can't really be that amazing. It's just some stupid reunion to reunite me with my peers from secondary school, no big deal. It's not like I like any of them anyways.

Butters went on to being some great office assistant or something, but he's not very good at it. His boss talks shit about him on Facebook all the time and it's actually quite sad, because Butters always laughs about it. Like 'hahaha! Ur so rite boss!" or "Yup!" He must've picked that up while being friends with Eric.

Kenny runs a garage downtown. He somehow picked up Clyde and Token to work for him, and now he's making more money than his parents have made in their entire lives in a week. I'm really proud of him, and I think he's proud of himself too. He's still the good old Ken.

Eric, or Cartman, well, whatever same thing, has been enjoying life and living it to the fullest it looks life. I don't really know much, but I do know he went into photography. I see him from my office building on the streets and I sigh a little, wishing I could run free. He seems so happy as he trots down the street, free as a bird. Stupid bastard. Sometimes I wish I was him.

Then there's me. I work as an accountant, and let me tell you, it really sucks. Not that I don't like balancing other people's budgets, but it's boring. You sit at a desk all day and do nothing but math, and I don't feel like I get everything done right. When my mom asks how work was, I shrug. It's honestly because it's sucking the life out of me, and I feel nothing but pain anymore.

I still live with my family. I know, dorky right? But it's not like I'm going to live alone or anything. I can't cook, and I definitely would be downing bottle after bottle of wine if I didn't have my family to distract me. Ike and I usually play basketball out side every night until it's dark, and then I'm usually watching some TLC show or the Canada Channel.

My life has basically been a big mess after college, with the whole "oh-my-god-I'm-Getting-so-old" phase, and then my parents always reassuring me that it will get better. I just sigh and nod, and go back to work with the same attitude everyday.

The sadness of being so unstable and angry all the time really drags me down all the time. Especially now that I'm usually left all alone to fend for myself and having zero friends and no life, I just stay on my computer all day until Mom either calls me down to help her with something or when Ike comes home from school.

The only thing I really like about accounting is the paycheck. Usually I'm bringing in close to $71,000 per year, and that enough for me to have incredibly fast wifi, a new phone every two years, and a Mac. I feel so stupid when my mom or dad comes home with a large amount of groceries and they don't regret anything. It's like they have a stream of money that's endless, which is actually true.

Now my life is basically Quoteform and Tumblr, with the daily exceptions of creeping up on my friends and family on Facebook. I'm usually out like a light by nine-thirty, and usually up at six. My days blur together, and I know that I'll be stuck in this same routine for years and years, and by the time I wake up and realize who and what I am, I'll be a thirty something single. Great.

I'm so scared of waking up one day and refusing to go to work, and I know that day is coming, and so I try to mentally prepare myself a head of time. I'm taking anti-anxiety pills, which I honestly do need, because I'm becoming more and more like Tweek. That day where I look in the mirror and break down cry is one I'm dreading so much. I feel like Rapunzel, wondering when my life will begin. I'm tired of life and it hasn't even really started for me. That's just peachy, isn't it?

Like I said, my day starts and ends pretty early, so now I'm waiting by the Keurig, trying not to cry because of the early morning. I groan, and My mom appears from her room, tired and out of it, and she hands me my keys that I almost forgot. Looks like its another beautiful day in the life of Kyle Broflovski.

_**i'm really trying to make each chapter really sorta long, so bear with me. **_


	2. Eyes on You

My first client is a guy named Levi that just inherited thousands of dollars from his late uncle Larry. He's telling me about all the cars he's going to buy, and all the "balling" parties he's gonna throw. Poor him, he doesn't seem to understand that three thousand dollars doesn't buy much.

Earl, my second client, is a pervy old man who keeps licking his lips and looking up at me. I'm nervously glancing at my watch every few minutes and I have a death grip on my phone. He finally leaves me be and now I'm left to watch the clock and count how long it takes for my third client to get here.

Just my luck. Guess who was my third client? That's right, Bebe Stevens, or Waters, as she's married to some rich ass punk who wants to rule the world. I wave at her but she's too busy applying lip gloss and fixing her powder to care. Rodrick, the rich ass punk, is having a huge ass party on the twenty-seventh, so he needs me to keep his book. I sigh and look and him, and pretend to scribble something. I shake my head, pretending to be worried, but in reality, I'm honestly laughing, because I love screwing with assholes like him.

As soon as I get home, I'm nearly jogging up the stairs so I can take a shower. I honestly don't want to talk to my mom about tonight, so I try to avoid her at all costs. Now I busying myself with Tumblr, reblogging the same old shit I always do. Terrence and Philip.

The show may be over, but the fan base is still going on strong. Someone actually has started an Anime series based on the show, and I can watch those over and over and it still seems new.

So now I'm trying to busy myself and not trying to worry about tonight. I hope I have a good time, but I also hope it gets cancelled last-minute. Not that I don't want to go, but that everyone's probably engaged or showing off their wedding photos and kids. I really hope no one asks me about my marital status.

I'm in the shower now, shampooing the crap out of my curls. I'm really trying to get away from my mom, but my hair is really hard to wash. I shave and then I get back into my boxers and pajama pants, and I bound down the stairs and try not to look my mom in the eye.

"Bubbeh, you might want to go ahead and get dressed, it's four and the party starts at five."

I sigh and look at her. She had those magic powers of making time go faster and I secretly think she's some kind of time lord. I wouldn't be surprised if I tuned into BBC America and saw that Sheila Broflovski was going to be cast as the thirteenth doctor.

I'm trying to decide on one of two shirts. There's a red one with the british flag, or a green V-neck that I got from K-Mart a couple of months ago. I decide that you can never go wrong with green, so I throw that on with some old Khakis from high school that still fit me. I'm tempted to bring along my pull over, but I don't want it to seem like I haven't changed.

I frown at myself in the mirror. I have a few zits here and there, my eyebrows are perfectly trimmed and my baby face has evidence that it was once covered with a musky five o-clock shadow. I don't have a lot of my dad's genes, as I'm not really that hairy. I think it all goes to my hair, which grows at an extremely fast rate.

I try not to think about tonight. I try not to think that maybe everyone will forget me. Maybe they all have sweet jobs. Maybe they all have really hot (not in my opinion but every other heterosexual men opinions) wives, or really tiny babies. Maybe they have ultrasound pictures. I force the thoughts away and creep down the stairs and grab my zip-up and keys.

* * *

><p>On my way there, P!NK's <em>So What <em>blasted through the stereo, and I shamelessly tapped my fingers along to the beat. Humming the tune and keeping it was easier than anything, but once a stupid country song came one, I punched a button and it redirected me to a rap station._ Rap God _by Eminem was on and I was bobbing my head to the beat in no time.

When I pulled into the venue's parking lot, I didn't know what to expect. A huge sign that says **_"Welcome, Class of 2009!"_**_  
><em>

I grumble and try not to roll my eyes. I pull in next to a Camaro, which looks a lot better than my stupid Neon. It's black and gold, I wonder if it's Kenny's, because it looks like a kind of car Kenny would have.

I pull open the front door and I'm greeted with a fresh smell and a bouquet of flowers. I look around to see people all laughing and smiling at each other, and a lot of them I recognize instantly.

But I don't recognize my best friend.

He's still 5'8", but he has a hippie look to him. He's wearing stupid open-toed sandals and rocking a cardigan and jeans. I try not to laugh, but I can't get over how different he looks.

He can't get over how normal I look, and how I haven't really changed much. "Whoa! Kyle, my man!" He bear hugs me and I can't help but want to laugh again because I want to scream at him for leaving me. But I guess the hug is okay.

I'm taken a back by him even though I see him all the time. He's standing there, all cute and innocent, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue still but his chubby cheeks have slimed and he's grown into his figure, but he's still a little big. I can't help but not to stare, because honestly he's the hottest late-bloomer I've ever seen.

* * *

><p><em><strong>TY for reading :) chapters should be up daily or every two days <strong>_


	3. Midnight City

"Kyle? Kyle?" Stan waved his hand in front of my face, trying to get me to fall back into reality. I sputtered back to life and blinked a couple of times. Stupid me, seeing a hot grown man had made me zone out. Again.

"So, uh, how's life dude?" He asked, obviously trying to break the ice.

"Fine, I'm an accountant now, how's Africa?"

"Pretty good! I've met so many great people, seen so many great things, definitely had a change of heart now, man. I'm thinking about becoming a missionary, or maybe even going over there forever." He smiled that classic Stan smile that had that way of making you feel comfortable.

Now I pretty much just tried to nod along to what he was saying, and trying not to zone out again, I was half listening and half staring at Eric. Whoops.

"...Wendy's texting me from outside. I'll catch ya later, man."

But it's not like I could help it. Cartman was wearing this blue flannel draped over a v-neck and that almost gave me heart issues. He had a great smile, too, now that his teeth were perfectly in place by the braces he'd gotten in eighth grade. His hair was the color of a teddy bear's fur, and it probably smelled like sunshine and Axe body spray. I tried not to zone out and look like a total social introvert, so I found Kenny by the bar, of course.

"Hey Kenny, what's shaking?"

"How drunk are you? God, who the fuck says 'what's shaking' anymore?" He chugged down more of his beer, and looked at me.

"I haven't even touched a bottle of wine since a few weeks ago, so I'm not drunk."

"Whatever, just don't say that again. Your going to make me cry if you do!" He fake cried and laughed, and he must've been pretty buzzed because he stumbled to the wall for support.

"So you see any hot mama-I mean daddies here tonight?" He caught himself. Good.

"No, not yet at least." I was lying but sort of still telling the truth, because Cartman was the only guy I've seen that looks decent to me at least. I still think he's a douche of course, but he's not as annoying as Stan is right now, who keeps calling me man and bro hugging every guy in the line of sight. I'm still trying to work up the courage to say hi, when he approaches Kenny.

"What's up, Rich bitch?" Cartman looks at Kenny raising an eyebrow at him, and then looking at me with a strange look on his face. "Ah, The Jew just had to be here? I thought they fixed that problem?"

"Fucking fatass." I shook my head and rolled my eyes. He still was annoying as fuck.

"So, Kahl, what have you been up to? Law, physics-"

"I'm an accountant." I huffed out. May as well hear it from me and not some secondary source.

He giggled slightly. "Ah, every Jewish mother's dream. So tell me, Kahl, is she already setting up an arranged marriage for you?"

I socked him in the arm. Mom has been so crazy about me meeting someone, I think she might explode if I don't bring someone home soon. I nervously shifted on my feet. I didn't want to admit that my own mother was crazy about my life style, but she kind of was. I just walked away and got a drink or two.

* * *

><p>I've gone a little overboard, I think. I've had eight beers and a few shots, and I'm really not able to function all that well. Kenny (also horrendously drunk) is trying to hold me up. "Kyleeee! You didn't keep your promise!"<p>

"Bout what?" I slur back.

But before he can respond, I feel someone digging in my pocket. It's Cartman, taking my keys from me. I glare at him, but he smiles back at me. "C'mon, Kenny's lady friend taking him home, guess I'll take you home as well."

I try not to look to happy to be dragged to his car. I'm a little shocked that it's the black and gold one I'm parked next to. He's holding onto my wrists, his grip tight, as maybe he thinks I'll try to get away. I don't budge.

He shoves me into the passenger side seat playfully, and I buckle myself in.

"You better not spew in here, Jew, this is new interior."

I nod.

Trying to seem out of it, I try not to fall asleep and It seems likely that I will until Cartman plugs in his phone and puts on a Journey song. It's just _Wheel in The Sky _but it's keeping me awake, which is good. He stops outside of my house.

He opens my door and escorts me to the door, making sure I'm not too out of it. I swear he gives me a little smile, and I try not to grin back at him. He leaves me to my door and hands me my keys and a small slip of paper. I'm left there to look back at him as he revs his engine and drives away. I get that knot in my stomach as I always do.

* * *

><p>I stumble up the stairs one by one and fall into bed. My parents must be asleep because they definitely aren't paying any attention to my drunkness. I'm now staring into the darkness of my room, seeing nothing but the blackness. I try not to fall asleep instantly, I try to stay up enough to at least get my shoes off, and I finally do. I fall back into the pillows and snooze off, feeling the soft pillows tickle my skin once more as it does every night.<p> 


	4. The Sickness

**Chapter 4**

The ringing phone breaks the silence of three am. I shoot up in bed, the beads of sweat running down the sides of my face, and I launch for my phone.

"Dude, what happened?" I'm greeted by Kenny's raspy morning voice. I groan back in response as he muffles something through to me that I can't understand. I groan and hit the 'end' button. I fall back into bed, trying to sleep, but it doesn't come. I'm stuck looking up at the boring ceiling and my old fan that broke years ago. I try to squeeze my eyes and go back to sleep, but Cartman's face crosses my mind.

That face. That beautiful, untouched face with not a zit on it, his fluffy eyebrows are always in the right place, and his pink lips twitch into a smile. This time, he didn't nag me like he usually did. He teased me as if I were along lost friend, and to be honest, I was. I don't know why I never went out, or at least went to Kenny's parties, which happened quite often.

I just tried not to think, clearing my mind of all traces of him, but the image of him dragging me out of that party was going to be forever carved into my brain. I also remember the small traces of fear in the back of my head, but no, of course he would never do anything to torment me now that we were adults, right?

I mean, I could always report him to the police, and I doubt he could physically hurt me now, I was pretty strong now, due to some weight lifting classes in senior year. But, Cartman was the linebacker for the football team, but I doubt he could hurt me. It's not like he can just do that.

Sometimes I really miss high school. I had so many great memories of me and the gang doing great stuff. Like breaking into Mr. Mackey's house or the last football game. That was probably the best one.

It was all tied up. Everyone was silent, even the cheer squad. The Bulls had nothing on us, but somehow they had managed to haul ass. We were all on the edge of our seats, as Token threw the ball to the opposite team on accident, but Cartman had managed to tackle him, and Clyde got it to Stan in time, and he made the touch down.

Everyone ran to everyone. Wendy was practically eating Stan's face. Kenny and Clyde were highfiving, and I remember jabbing Cartman in the ribs. "Good job, fatass."

"Thanks, you fucking jew," he raised his hand over my head for a high five. I jumped to get it but my 5'7" self couldn't reach it. I ended up tackling him, but he managed to reverse it, and he looked down at me, wriggling his eyebrows at me.

"That's not fair!" I groaned, but he just made a fake sad face.

"Aww, is wittle Kahl too weak to fend off a macho footballer?"

" F-Fuck you." I mumbled.

He chuckled at me, and I remember the timid blush that showed up on my face. I remember forcing it down and looking over at Kenny, who was making eyes at Bebe again. I went over and tried to get small talk in, but I couldn't focus. That god damn blush had caught me off guard.

I also remember the second blush. We were at the arcade for Stan's birthday, and I saw a Terrence plush in the machine. I was so determined to get that thing, I blew twenty bucks on it, but never got it.

"...You need some help there, Jew?'

I still felt that the voice was right behind me. I turned to him and looked him in the eyes, his weirdly deep blue eyes, that squinted back at me. It was back whenever he still wore his red jacket, because I remember he stripped it off and threw it onto the chairs next to us. His dark grey v-neck was perfectly aligned with him, and his everyday khakis fit without a wrinkle. I remember his cologne, which I noticed he wore a lot more nowadays. It always smelled like new shoes, or a new car, and his hair was, of course, ruffled and stuffed into his beanie. As I focused on something in the distance, I heard a bell ding. I swiveled my head to see the bastard holding the plush, smiling as big as he could. I wanted to slap the sense out of him. "What do you say, Kahl?"

"Thanks, you fat piece of shit."

He rolled his eyes, and I walked away,and my face was yet again, heated. **_  
><span>_**

I opened my eyes to see the same ceiling and remebering that was over. The days of all of us being together at one place at one time were over. The days of the bus stop were over, the football games and lunch times were over.

Maybe it was time to grow up.

Maybe Stan was doing the right thing by leaving South Park. Maybe Stan was doing what he was supposed to do; to forget about everyone. To run to a whole different country. _To live._

* * *

><p>My alarm screamed and bawled at me, but I couldn't get up. My body was aching with pain and my stomach protested with a gurgle. I couldn't get out of bed.<p>

I was able to finally reach my phone, so I called up Len (the secretary). She answered, her always chirpy and smooth voice coaxing me into wanting to sleep again. I struck my eyes open again.

"Hey Len, I'm having some...issues. I can't make it."

"Well, this is your first day off, ever! Feel better, Broflovski."

I fell back into bed, but I noticed a certain slip of paper still laying on the night stand. Oh yeah.

_**ugh i know stop judgin' me..**_


	5. Hold On, We're Going Home

**its been awhile, hayyyyyyyyy.**

**Chapter 5**

Picking up the small slip, I open it to see Cartman's squiggly handwriting have formed his name and number. I quickly copy it into my phone and hit call.

"Yo."

"Hey fatass, what's up?"

"Nothing much, jew. Has your mom discovered that her little princess stumbled in drunk at 3 am?"

"Shut up," I command, but I'm having to hold back laughter. He's going on about something, but all I can think about is how weird this is. How he literally dragged me back home after I almost puked all over his leather interior. He didn't try to rape me. He did me a solid and actually drove me home and saved me from almost killing myself and driving off a bridge.

"Kahl?"

"What? Oh, sorry." I stutter, trying to not seem like I was ignoring him for ten minutes.

"I was saying, what about your stupid Neon?"

_Shit. _"I'm sure my mom could-"

"...I could take you."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" I was weirded out now. Here he was, someone I really couldn't stand, doing me a favor? Are you kidding me?

"Sure. I mean, I'm off work today, why not? My cable's out, so is my internet, there's really nothing to do."

"...Wow, thanks, Cartman."

"Don't mention it, because if you do, It'll ruin me."

I laughed. After hanging up, I discovered my mom in the kitchen, cleaning the stove. She smiled but then raised an eyebrow at me. "Bubbeh, why home so early?"

"Didn't go in today, Ma."

Her smile increased a bit, and then gave me a quick squeeze. "So does that mean you'll pick up Ike?"

"Sure thing."

After throwing on a clean shirt and belting up my jeans, I discovered I smelled like hangover. I basically doused myself in Axe, and found myself with spare time. I decided to keep an eye on my phone but I manage to watch an old rerun of Terrence and Philip. It was _Excreation Police ll_, which used to be Stan's favorite episode. It's too bad that he got rid of his TV and all mobile devices, I really miss him.

A chime comes my phone, but before I get my hopes up, it's just Kenny, who has involved me in a group chat with two other people. I quickly delete it, because their going on and on about boobs, and I definetly don't want to get involved in that. Then another chime finally makes me jump up and check it. It's from Cartman, who has pulled up in the street. I smile and bound down the stairs. "Bye, ma!"

"Bye!"

I get in to see Cartman on his phone, who gives me a teensy smile

"So what do you do, sit on your ass all day?" I act like I don't know what he does, but it's not like I don't see him going down the street every couple of days.

"I'm a photographer, actually."

"Really? I didn't know you had sensibility anyway."

"Shut up," He socks me in the arm, but I can see his little smile peek at me again.

"You'll have to show me some pictures sometime," I shrug.

"Really? Even my mom doesn't want to see my work," His brow play into a furrow.

"I'd show you what I do but numbers aren't that cool."

He laughs at that. We ride on in silence, and I find myself staring into the distance. He just hums along to the classic rock coming from his stereo. I'm trying not to laugh at the lyrics, their generic, almost a copy of Metallica. I look at his happy face, his chesnut like hair is all messy but It looks pretty good. Once we pull up at the venue, he lets me out and I think it's over. I think I may never see or speak to him again, but he smiles and says he'll see me later. When I get in my car my heart is doing this weird pounding thing; it's never done that before. I try not to think about him anymore, but now I can't get him out of my head.

I start my descent to the Elementary school, and I go in to get Ike.

"Kyle? Is that you?" I hear a familar voice when I enter. It's Mr. Garrison, of course.

"Hi, Mr. Garrison."

"You've gotten...taller."

"...thanks."

I see Ike, and he runs to me and basically latches onto my legs. I giggle, and pick him up, although he is a fourth grader, and has two legs that aren't broken. I carry him out to the car and put him in the front seat. We drive along until he nearly screeches for me to get Shakey's, and so I pull over and we go through the drive thru. I don't see anyone I recognize working there, so that's good. We head home, and mom has some arts and crafts for Ike to do. I watch carefully, as the ten year old pastes pictures to construction paper, and I can't help but not smile.

**_this was a little short, but hey, short and sweet is always neat, right? _**


End file.
